


now the world is ours to take

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, after the war, all your faves - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Clarke and Bellamy realize, that maybe, just maybe, their delinquents are all grown up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now the world is ours to take

**Author's Note:**

> sent in as a request on Tumblr that got super out of hand - it's lowkey bellarke but also includes some minty and harpoe, as well as lots of happiness and friendship and just GOOD THINGS because these people deserve the very very best

_Jasper_

Bellamy stands back with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning their new home. With the war with the Ice Nation in the past, the battle involving the City of Light gone to never be thought of again, they’ve decided to live. To build. To grow. 

The delinquents wanted to return to their roots, so many of them without family, and after getting council permission they took a group back to the dropship to rebuild. Their small stretch of land that they’ve claimed, that they’ve built cabins into, they’ve decided to rename as _Sky Land_. It’s a little cheesy, Bellamy thinks, but because they came from the Sky Box he can’t bring himself to ask someone to change it. 

He feels a familiar presence to the left of him and doesn’t have to turn to know that Clarke has joined him. They’ve been working to regain their level of trust, of balance, and it’s come slowly day by day. But no matter what it feels right to have her by his side again, for him to be by hers. They’re equals, and they’ve made it this far, and they’ll make it farther.

“Raven said I can move into her cabin,” Clarke says offhandedly. Bellamy turns, arching an eyebrow at her. “So I’m moving in tomorrow.”

He tips his head at that. “And your mom?”

“She says it’ll be good to have me out here. I’ll go to Arkadia weekly, plus we still have the trades, and it’ll be good to have a medic out here.” Bellamy nods again and Clarke stands a little straighter. “Did you see?” she asks.

Bellamy follows the motion she makes toward Jasper sitting in the common area. There’s a firepit, much like the one at Arkadia, and a few logs around it. The sun is setting and the fire’s already rearing, and Jasper’s sitting beside one of the delinquents Bellamy never got to know. _Lily_ , he thinks her name is, and Jasper smiles kindly at something the girl says to him.

It’s then that they watch Jasper pull out the music player that belonged to Maya in a time too different from the present, offering one of the earbuds to the girl. She smiles back, accepts it, and they listen to the song Jasper’s picked out together.

“You think he’s going to be okay?” Clarke asks.

“I think he already is,” Bellamy responds.

* * *

  _Octavia_

Clarke and Octavia have never gotten back to that place they used to be, and Clarke isn’t sure that they ever will. But when Octavia bursts into Raven and Clarke’s cabin (Raven absent, always in her lab tinkering with something) with tears in her eyes, Clarke rushes to her side immediately. 

“What do I do?” Octavia asks, again and again, shaking her head and opening and closing her hands again as though trying to grasp for an answer. “You have to tell me what to _do_ , Clarke.” 

Lincoln has to travel. It’s a sort of ceremony in Grounder culture, that after so many years he must take a sort of reflective journey. It will take him east, to the ocean. North, to the lakes. West, to the ocean again. Through the mountains. Across the deserts. And then, hopefully, home. 

And he’s asked Octavia to come with him. 

“I can’t leave Bell,” Octavia says, her eyes darker than Clarke’s ever remembered seeing them. “It’ll _kill_  him.”

“Bellamy knows you,” Clarke reminds her carefully. “He’s told you before that if you needed to leave, that he understood.” 

“It was different then,” Octavia insists. Since then Bellamy has lost so many more people, has felt the guilt on his shoulders from death and war, from Octavia’s own fist during a fight they’d never believed could be solved. “If I leave now he could…” she trails off, shaking her head, and Clarke isn’t sure how she planned to finish that sentence. Octavia looks up at her. “ _You_ can’t leave,” she says thickly. 

Clarke’s eyebrows come together. She hasn’t thought about leaving, not at all. After everything that she’s been through? After all the pain? The answer wasn’t running, it was staying. It was putting down roots. It was learning to live again. 

“Never,” Clarke tells her. 

“Because he’ll need you,” Octavia presses, swatting at her eyes. Clarke doesn’t say it, but she thinks Octavia can understand it from her gaze alone. _I need him, too_. Octavia leaps to her feet them and stretches her arms out for Clarke.

For the first time in months they’re hugging, Octavia surprisingly small in Clarke’s arms. They hold each other tightly, Clarke’s arms behind Octavia’s neck, Octavia’s around Clarke’s waist. They’re like that for a long time before there’s a gentle knock on the door of the cabin and it gets pushed open. 

“Clarke? I think Monroe’s broken her–Octavia?” Bellamy stops when he sees the two of them latched together. When they part Octavia swats at her eyes another time. “What’s wrong?” Bellamy asks, standing a little taller. 

“Can we talk?” Octavia asks. Bellamy’s eyes flicker to Clarke and when she nods once, he motions for Octavia to join him outside. Clarke goes too, to check on Monroe (just a sprain), only to return to Bellamy and Octavia in a similar embrace that he found the two of them in earlier. 

Soon Octavia is walking away (not for good, not tonight) and Bellamy lets her go. Clarke walks over by his side and he sighs, and the two of them watch her together. 

“She’ll be okay,” Clarke tells him.

“She will,” Bellamy agrees. But his voice is thick. Clarke reaches out to grab his hand and they lace their fingers together. It’s an intimate moment, one of the more intimate ones they’ve had, and Bellamy squeezes her hand once. “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

They stand together for a long time after Octavia is gone. 

* * *

  _Monty_

Bellamy’s caught off guard when he hears a laugh so loud and pure that it can’t possibly be real. He whips around from the cabin wall that he’s working on to find Monty clutching his stomach, doubled over in extreme laughter at a joke that Bellamy must’ve missed.

A smile tugs on Bellamy’s mouth and before he knows it, he’s grinning. When’s the last time that Monty laughed? Especially like this? With Jasper by his side, his hand on Monty’s shoulder and a similar smile on his face? With Miller a few steps away, shaking his head in disbelief at whatever must be happening. 

After the laughter dies down Monty straightens up, wipes tears of mirth from his eyes, and crosses to Harper who’s holding up some sort of walkie-talkie. “Let me fix it,” Monty says with a grin. “It’ll just take a second.” 

As promised Monty tinkers with the machine for just a few moments before handing it back to the girl who thanks him brightly before marching off with Monroe by her side. 

Miller says something back and Monty laughs another time, the smile looking as though it might be permanently pressed to his face, before Jasper joins in the laughter too. Bellamy peels back slightly from the wall only to see that Clarke’s arrived with another bucket of nails like he’s asked.

“What’s happening?” he asks. 

Clarke smiles. “Monty programmed the walkies to pick up the Arkadia radio station,” she tells him, lowering the bucket by his feet. “But someone in Arkadia’s been playing a lot of strummy music. Banjos and harmonicas, the works.” Bellamy nods a few times. “Really theatrical stuff. Not Harper’s favorite.” 

“He switched stations for her,” Bellamy clarifies, and Clarke nods with another smile. Bellamy thinks back to the Monty he first knew at the dropship, messy and playful and intense. The old Monty would’ve let Harper suffer for just a little bit longer. “That’s nice of him.” 

“It is,” Clarke agrees with a thoughtful smile. 

* * *

  _Harper + Monroe_

“Like this,” Harper says another time, lifting the kid’s hands in the position Mornoe just described. Clarke lingers in the shadows, watching the two girls leading the defense class patiently. They aren’t in the middle of a war, not anymore, but it never hurts to know how to defend yourself. “Good, that’s good.”

Both girls used to be so skinny and weak. Now they’re strong, and brave, and there’s an intensity in their eyes that makes Clarke proud to know them. They teach with a sort of passion that reminds Clarke of Bellamy, a sort of patience in every step and encouragement that carries the kids on through. 

A lot of the delinquents left are young, small. To have people like Harper and Monroe leading them is a blessing.

“I taught her that,” Clarke hears. She looks up to find Bellamy lowering himself onto the ground beside her before be motions to the high kick that Monroe’s doing. “Took her weeks to get it right.”

“She’s a professional now,” Clarke says.

“She is.” He waits a beat. “They both were in training back in Arkadia. Before the war.” Clarke nods as she takes this in. “Determined fighters.” He shakes his head slightly before sighing. “Harper right after Mount Weather… I wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same again.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Harper says to a girl, no older than fourteen, who gets the punch just right. 

“She’s so positive,” Clarke points out. 

“After everything she’s been through…” Bellamy trails off with another sigh. “She is. They both are.” He gestures to camp. “They _all_  are.” 

“We’re lucky,” Clarke says. “That they’re so strong.” Bellamy isn’t sure if he agrees with that entirely. Of course they’re strong. They’ve been through enough pain and struggling for an entire lifetime. But there’s more to it. He knows Clarke must know that too. 

“You’re doing great,” Monroe encourages a boy who’s echoing her kick. “Just a little higher.” 

“We’re lucky,” Bellamy agrees. For many, many reasons. 

* * *

  _Murphy_

Returning to Sky Land was a struggle for Murphy, and Bellamy knew that the moment the boy arrived. He didn’t feel as though he belonged anymore and after one late night out by the fire where Bellamy learned of a girl, long and lost, _Emori_ , he knew that Murphy was aching in a way Bellamy could relate to.

But his family was gone, and dead, and these kids were the only family that he had left. 

Murphy sits now at the table in the dining hall, the ghost of a smile on his face as he watches Harper and Monty speaking back in forth rapidly about something no one can understand. It’s like the two of them have their own secret language many struggle to understand. Miller and Murphy exchange a look and the both of them shrug.

“Oh, crap,” Clarke sighs loudly, suddenly, and starts to stride across the room to try and intervene before Raven gets there. Bellamy lingers back in confusion, watching the blonde hurrying to stop something he isn’t sure of.

But of course Raven gets there first. She lays a flower crown on Murphy’s head before dropping into the seat next to him with a bright smile. 

“The hell is this, Reyes?” Murphy mutters, lifting the flowers from his head and moving them into his line of vision. Clarke lingers back a few steps, too late to stop whatever’s already been pushed into motion, and Bellamy strides over the few steps to stand by her side. “You know that pink isn’t my color,” he says.

Raven tips her head back in a wild laugh as Murphy returns the flower crown to his head. “My mistake,” she says. “I’ll look for blue ones next time.”

“You’d better,” Murphy says. “This’ll do _for now_.” 

Clarke tips her head to look at Bellamy, and then back to Murphy who looks happier than Clarke may have ever seen, _wearing a flower crown_. “I…” she starts, and stops, and Bellamy shrugs. 

“Pink’s a fine color to me,” Bellamy murmurs, a smile tugging on his lips. 

“Murphy…” Clarke trails off, and Bellamy knows what she’s thinking. 

“How’d you get them to stay together?” Murphy’s asking Raven. “Mine always come loose.”

“I don’t know either,” Bellamy admits. The war’s changed everyone. He’s half expecting Murphy to snap at Raven still. But Raven seems unaffected, unworried, as she explains the way she latched the flowers together. 

When Murphy asks, “Can you show me?” Clarke literally thinks she’s going to faint. 

“Oh,” she exhales. So this is what it feels like. Change. It happens so swiftly, like a moving river when the ice melts from winter to spring, it’s nearly impossible to notice. This is what it _feels_  like, to breathe. 

Bellamy reaches for Clarke’s hand, squeezing once. “Oh,” he echoes with happiness in his voice. 

* * *

 

_Miller_

The only thing Bellamy feels when he watches Monty rest his shoulder on Miller’s shoulder is _relief_. Miller grins at the boy beside him, wrapping his arm around Monty’s waist to tug him closer. It’s such a natural gesture, a gesture so full of familiarity and _love_  that Bellamy feels like his heart going to burst. 

Miller looks so much older now with his beanie gone, his stubble grown out. Even his walls have come tumbling down. His snark is still there but there’s something more than the bitter boy that first landed on the ground, the cold lieutenant that stood by Bellamy’s side through wars and battles. 

Miller turns his head and kisses the crown of Monty’s head and Bellamy has to look away before his smile splits his face in half. 

When he hears perhaps his best friend murmur, “Love you,” to Monty so gently, so carefully, Bellamy has to excuse himself from the fire. But not before he hears Monty murmur it back with so much conviction that Bellamy can _feel_ it.

As he’s heading back to his cabin he runs into Clarke with charcoal on her hands, clearly having just been drawing. “You okay?” she asks, looking kind of concerned. 

Bellamy can’t stop smiling. “Miller just told Monty that he loves him,” Bellamy says.

Clarke pauses, arching an eyebrow. “Well that’s not news,” she says. “They’ve been together for weeks now, Bell.”

“No, but to _hear_ it,” he tries. He doesn’t know how to explain it. It used to be so hard to even _speak_  but now they’ve grown, they’ve loved, they’re _loving and growing still_. Together, as a unit. “I don’t know, Clarke, it makes me happy.” 

Happy. _Happy._ That their friends, that these scared kids that landed in a hunk of metal on the earth are no longer scared, are no longer kids. It makes him elated. It makes him feel like he’s full of air and could float. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke says gently. She walks over to him, grabbing both of his hands despite the mess on her own, and squeezes once. “I think we’ve made it,” she says.

A wild laugh escapes Bellamy and he feels tears coming to his eyes. He glances back to the fire. Monty and Miller are still tangled together. Raven and Murphy are laughing. Jasper and Harper are tossing berries across at one another. Monroe has a rare smile on her face, causally intercepting some of the throws. Octavia, somewhere, is with the man that she loves seeing the world that they’ve fought to see. 

Clarke squeezes Bellamy’s hands another time. 

“You’re right,” he breathes, blinking hard. “I think we have.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I got emotional. I love these kids, I just want them to all be happy. x


End file.
